Being the continuation of InstaPunk and InstaPunk Rules
The Constitutional Crisis that Isn’t
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The spelling authority relied on here is from the U.S. Gazetteer in Shuteye
Nation, which is also the source, by omission, that Rode Island doesn’t even exist.
Not a Constitutional Crisis? What is it then? A judicial coup attempt launched by 6 shopped judges in 3 states, plus DC. Actually, only two states, since ‘Rode Island’ is just a Brahmin trick to give ‘Machusetts’ four senators. Of the judges, three are wymyn, three are myn, however these are defined anymore, three have Harvard law degrees, two have law degrees from anti-Christian formerly Catholic universities (one law degree doesn’t even count because it’s from Uhio), and all are left-wing Democrats.
Two kinds of proof are offered here. One is derived from ancient ritual practice called Logic, presently either unknown or odious to post-modern ‘Progressives,’ who need nothing more than the right drug regiment to arrive at the ephemera they describe as Truth and Justice. The other proof will be visual, which is a lot easier than that “A=B, B=C, so A=C” crap.
I’m giving you the logic because without it, I wouldn’t have looked up the maps I’ll be showing you in a minute. The President of the United States is the chief executive of the Executive Branch, one of three co-equal branches of the government along with the legislative and the judiciary. All employees of the Executive Branch serve at the pleasure of the President, because he is responsible by virtue of election for what they all do. In his executive capacity he has not jut the right but the duty to be well informed about what executive branch employees are doing, what they are spending the monies allocated to them on, and hoe efficiently and cost-effectively executive functions are being carried out. No judge has the right, or any legal basis, for ordering the halt of any such information gathering activity or the resulting adjustments in staff size that may result from the discovery of mismanagement. That’s the Logic part.
Now comes the visual part. Here’s the map showing where the federal judges from individual states and cities have mounted their attempt to stop the chief executive from finding out what his employees are doing and standing down while during the process of finding out:
Did you find the parts of the country where the overwhelming percentage of the work done by
federal judges concerns in their rulings? It’s the little red boxes in the upper right quadrant.
With me so far? I used the term “judge shopping” earlier. A politician has the right (the traditional ability at least) to meet with individual federal judges when he wants to make a federal case out of something. He’s allowed to,petition the judge to accept his case for review and make a ruling on his selected point of law. Where would a Democrst politician be most likely to find a judge likely to sympathize with his politics? Not quite as easy as you might think:
The red spaces on the map above are all the counties that voted for Trump. The blue
spaces are the counties that voted for Harris. Why we have an Electoral College.
When Dems pooh-pooh the characterization that Trump won in a landslide, who you gonna believe? Their doctored final vote counts or your lying eyes? Why do you think pols glommed onto the word landslide in the first place? (Did you feel earth move, baby?) Even judges like to be popular in the regions where they perform most of their work. It’s not enough incentive for a judge to be just from a blue state. He must be from a state (or district) that is deep blue. You really can’t get much bluer than Massachusetts/RI, the southern district of New York, and the District of Columbia (DC being the place the richest federal workers live). It also helps for a judge to be so old that his pension is assured and he can afford to hunt headlines on his way out to pasture. Of the 6 judges presently trying to order Trump around in his own Executive Branch, only one is less than the official retirement age of 65. One of them is over 80 years old. All blue and too old to care.
If you’re intrigued to see them by now, here they are:
All I can tell you for sure is that the judges are younger in these pics than they are now.
We have, of course, entered Lawfare Phase 2, wherein people with sheepskins in wolf sizes try to hunt down Donald Trump and, more importantly than before, bring down his administration. With regard to the Trump Curse, we’re hardly flying blind here. There was a slate of judges and prosecutors who thought they had a deer in the headlights, not the fucking stag from the Hartford.
They all thought they were winning their cases. They had a bagful of legal tricks, which they used skillfully to make the narrowest possible decision that was right at the ethical line of good practice, unless it went way beyond that line because they had learned at law school that a smart enough attorney can get away with practically anything if the court machinery is on their side. My problem with the LSAT, and the reason I passed up law school after years of being pushed toward it, was that the instructions insisted you always make the “correct” decision by interpreting all the facts as narrowly as possible. If you looked more broadly at the questions being asked, you found yourself disagreeing with the “correct” answer and even disagreeing with the myopic definition of what constitutes a “correct” decision in a matter of justice. You just stop seeing how an ill-framed premise can lead to absurd result by focusing narrowly on the wrong things. I didn’t want to spend my life arguing myself into smaller and smaller and tighter and tighter boxes that can suffocate your humanity and ruin your mind. I have never doubted my decision to stay away from the legal profession. Most lawyers are paper pushing clerks who spend their lives avoiding courtrooms. I would have wanted the courtroom even for less money and skyscraper views. But I couldn’t have stood being a defense attorney moving heaven and earth to get acquittals for people I knew to be guilty. I couldn't stand the thought of being a prosecutor and learning to cut corners for the purpose of keeping the conviction rate up and my career prospects high, while some number of innocent defendants got convicted on clever courtroom maneuvering. Being an auto mechanic also requires enormous attention to detail, but the auto mechanic doesn’t have to sell his soul to fix a car, because his thousandths of an inch assessments aren’t the difference between life and death, just ‘works’ and ‘doesn’t work.’
The practice of law has destroyed more promising people in this nation than military combat. By far. A huge chunk of my generation went to law school. I met them on commercial flights over many years. When aI found a seat ate was a lawyer, I asked him if he was happy with his choice of profession. Can’t recall a single clearly positive answer. People tell strangers on planes the truth more often than they do to friends and family. No consequences to seeming a disappointment to some stranger’s eye.
Bothering you with all these thoughts, because they occurred to me repeatedly as the legal shenanigans around Donald Trump proceeded through the Biden years. How could they not see they had just sidelined themselves for life as completely as Shakespeare’s Rosenkrantz and Guildenstern in Hamlet?
The Trump Curse isn’t something he inflicts on people. They inflict it on themselves with that odd flavor of Narcissism which makes supposedly conscious and talented people go blind about the consequences of thinking Trump is playing a role in your destiny, when people in general can see that the truth is the exact opposite. The pursuers of the stag are themselves accidental prey. The stag just does what he does, and he’s damn hard to bring down. Why, perhaps, there’s an ancient mythical monster called the Wendigo, who is depicted as some supernatural but definitely stag-like Nemesis.
Avoiding a bloody end in the enchanted forest requires abandoning
the conviction that enchanted forests are childish make believe.
Since Inauguration Day, the Wendigo is no longer the solitary delusion he appeared to be. Now he has his own pack and they’re, OMG, loose in Central Park:
Like others, I have already begun my own meme work on the new attackers. Seems everyone’s more prepared to jump into the chase more quickly and satirically. We know who the joke’s really on at this point. Here’s my first shot at the judge with the funniest name. My post:
And a followup:
I started after Judge Engelmayer when he made his first unhinged ruling on DOGE data collection:
Engelmajor seems to have doubled down since his first lordly door slam on DOGE (the phrase ‘drunk as a lord’ ring any bells?), so I will remain on his case.
I’m not trying to make you feel,guilty if you don’t to play in the meme-building process. Not a sport for everyone. Just an opportunity. I know the lefties are singularly bad at it. I keep getting notifications from some FB friend whose request I don’t remember accepting, but I think he’s identified me as one of them.
Which I am, obviously. Just as he is one of them in that other sense. This fella is a great bomb thrower. He finds some lefty comic who churns out attempted memes aimed at Trump and his allies, but their humor attempts aren’t funny because they all come down to the same punchline: how stupid and dangerous and unwashed all the MAGA constituents are as they blindly follow their authoritarian monster of a Democracy killer. You read or watch whatever it is, and all you can think is, Could anything be any lamer than that? And then you realize, well, yeah. What’s lamer than that is the superior Trump hater whose page offers zero information about himself and whose posts are always someone else’s jokes, introduced by no more than a sentence, if any intro at all. That’s lamer.
Why they don’t get what losers they are personally and politically. Do I feel sorry for rhem? No.
Anyhow. I know I haven’t given you a lot of fact-type specifics so far, but that’s why we have the Undernet. Much of what I haven’t shared is in today’s trip through the dark ether of the American battle for survival. Butmit’s not all gloom and doom out there. You’ll see that too, below the fold…
BELOW THE FOLD
If you’re not familiar with, or don’t remember the Undernet, click on the Portal title banner for the basics. You can return from all Undernet portals with the back-function on your device. Failing that,,getting lost is no big deal. If something sends you wandering far away, you can always return here the way you got here today. Hope you find the day’s adventure illuminating, amusing, or helpful in some way. See you anon…
UPDATE: This post was last updated 4:15 pm, Feb 21, 2025. This will be a pinned post in perpetuity, but it will be updated continuously, just like all of our lives. The title — “My World and Welcome to It” — is stolen happily from James Thurber, who is known as a humorist, unabashedly untrained cartoonist, and dog lover. He was also subject to melancholy, a drinker of note, and something of an outsider (in his own damaged eyes at least) as an Ohioan, born and educated, who became a fixture in the glamorous Algonquin Roundtable of Manhattan writers and playwrights. I can relate to all of that but the fame and the lifelong journey to blindness. I believe he was likely the best writer of the gang that gathered in the Algonquin Hotel in the 1930s, and I made my own pilgrimage there once in my youth to have drink in the bar and imagine my favorites — Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker, and Thurber — at play in black tie. The place felt empty and sad, darker in the afternoon ...
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